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Topic: The Podunkville Files - The Pulp RP (Read 12036 times)

Jonathan, who had stayed behind to tie the satellite's remains to the back of MIC's seat, passed Robot Cop in the street as the mechanical officer headed for the second crash site.

He frowned at its flashing lights in the rear view mirrors, hoping that it wouldn't set MIC off. Other robots tended to put the bike in a mood for days. If they were free, it would be momentarily optimistic before falling into a series maudlin rants about it's lot in life. If they were as trapped by their programming as it was it would be tirades on the inequity of the universe right from the start.

Someday, he swore he'd instal a mute button.

Logged

Nefarious? Nearly. Ne’er-do-well? Never! Neither nearly names this narrator. Naive and knowledgeable, notorious and inscrutable, this nascent Nero is known naturally as Neoadept.

Anton sped through the streets of the small town and zigged and zagged out of pedestrians on their way home. There were an awful lot of people out. They were probably looking at the crash. Rounding another corner, Anton spied the telltale signs of the impact and slowed down. He switched off the lights and put the car in park, and as his eyes adjusted he saw the last few stragglers leaving the site. Only one person remained and he looked as if he had a reason to be there.

Stepping out of the car with Jim, the pair wandered up alongside the stranger and stared at the wreckage. "Wish I could say this was the first time we'd seen something like this today..."

Exiting the car with Anton, James stood along the edge of the impact zone and called out, "Yeah, wonder what's bringing them down all at once like this!" With that, he began to tread into the impact site, this one having much less debris in comparison to the bar scene.

His eyes guiding him along the coolest path, he maneuvered his way closer to a few notable objects, another piece sheet of metal read CCCP as it rested in the rubble. "Looks like this one's Russian, too! Who says God doesn't pick sides, eh?"

Winding his way through the wreckage James stopped and his eyes rested upon a notable cool object, "Got somethin here!" Calling out to the pair above, he continued, "Kind of a heavier object, cold for dropping in from space! Can't really move it myself."

SB-5 scanned the shelves for useful items. He spotted some armor plating. I doubt any amount of armor would be able to stop an object falling at reentry speeds, he thought. He kept looking; Tesla coil, no, theremin, no, rail gun, no—hold on a second, what's this?

He reached out and picked it up. It was an old radar unit from rusted out fishing boat that had come into the scrapyard one time. If I can get this working, he thought, maybe I can see them before they touch down.

He quickly grabbed various other tools and parts he thought would be useful. When he had gathered everything he needed, he headed back to the elevator. He took one last look at the monitor—nothing new—and hit the button to return to the surface.

"Gentlemen, please return to your homes. Everything is under con-" And he just walked straight past Nigel. Typical. The badge worked on large crowds of non-pla people, but the law of the conservation of ninjutsu applied here.

Oh well, locals were usually listened to more than some government agent.

"First time? That other one was just like this?" He wondered over to the crash site, hoping to get a better look at this cold object. "Do excuse me, where are my manners. Special Agent Keen." He held out his hand.

As our heroes investigate the second crater, a firework display of falling objects fills the sky, falling all around Sleepy Podunkville. Satellites of all nationalities and descriptions, pieces of space shuttle and common space junk like meteors, oh my!

"Yeah you guys have fun in the crater. I'll hang out up here for a while. By the way, I'm Anton." He then went on to tell the special agent about the bar and the satellite and everything else he could remember about it. "So yeah, like I said, almost got hit by one of those things earlier today. I'm gonna keep looking up for a bit longer before I start digging in the dirt."

"Well, at least that seems to be it..." The universe decided he had spoken too soon, and started raining down more debris. It looked like a meteor shower he had seen once, but brighter and louder. He couldn't even guess where they had landed, and hoped that not too many people got hurt.

"Tell me when the police get here," he told Anton, before jumping down into the crater to help this other gentleman. "Where's this cold object?"

SB-5 laid out all parts and pieces on the ground. Working quickly, he disassembled the marine radar unit. Once he figured out how it worked, he began constructing a new, more compact version. When he was finished, he picked it up. It was much smaller then the original had been. He flipped his arm and head around backwards, and fastened it to the top center of his back. With one last connection, he powered on the new unit. He was instantly aware of a cacophony of cosmic hail.

The sheer amount of new input was overwhelming. He found it difficult to focus on any single object. As his brain worked out a way to interpret the constant stream of data, a large object suddenly exploded on the ground next to him. The shock wave threw him back into a junk pile. As he picked himself up, the area around him gradual came into focus. He could see a three-dimensional image of everything in all directions, albeit at a much reduced resolution compared to his eyes.

He turned his attention to the large crater before him. So, he thought, what are these things?

MIC was starting to get worried, which was something of a novel state for the hyper intelligent motorcycle. Even in the worst of their cases, when bullets flew and Jonathan whimpered in the corner, the worst that MIC could expect to receive was a flat tire and some scratched paint. Even the occasional punctured gas tank wasn't particularly concerning.

Dozens of objects impacting at barely sub-orbital velocities in its immediate vicinity was another matter entirely. It couldn't even try to counter whatever was going on, most of the debris seemed to be inert space junk that couldn't move under it's own power, completely immune to any hacking attempt MIC might make. Something was pushing this stuff at them.

Or, it considered as it detected a powerful radar ping on the order of what the navy used to detect long range missile attacks, pulling it towards us.

"Uh, guys," Jon said as MIC whispered instructions, "this is way bigger than an isolated accident, something has to be aiming for this town. And I think there's a heavy duty radar that started up about the same time this did." He shrugged at the questioning looks sent his way, "feel it in my fillings. Like I said, heavy duty."

Logged

Nefarious? Nearly. Ne’er-do-well? Never! Neither nearly names this narrator. Naive and knowledgeable, notorious and inscrutable, this nascent Nero is known naturally as Neoadept.

As Jon finished relaying MIC's message, a bright light streaked across the horizon and the ground began to tremble. The pulsing light darted back and forth, covering several miles with each pass. Anton, still looking up into the air at the falling debris, watched the new light and glanced down into the crater.

"Hey uh... I don't suppose that's the cops?" He said loudly, backing toward an alleyway alongside the street. "Don't really want to be around for this."

He kneeled down behind a dumpster and peered out from one side. The bright light was moving closer in what seemed like a rhythmic pattern. Had Anton been paying better attention to the conversation, he would have noticed that the strange light moved every time the distant radar that MIC had detected sent out a ping. Whatever the case, time was short and with the latest ping the light was on top of the group. Nearly everyone had rushed to some sort of cover as the light approached, not that it was doing much good.

The source of the light roared like a monster and caused the very bricks of Podunkville to tremble. Anton and the others looked up at the strange flying object and for the first time were able to spy four large jet engines and a myriad of lights and sensors of all types. The machine itself was the size of a small house and it leveled out over the crater in downtown Podunkville before emitting a series of clicking noises. With another bright flash the light of the jet engines lessened and the contraption began to descend. Three large legs folded out from the side and it carefully touched down in the middle of a nearby four-way intersection.

A final loud snap echoed throughout town and the jet engines went silent. Anton looked around at the others in their hiding places and then back to the machine. A tall door had opened up in the side and a ramp was lowered. What could best be described as a grayish light poured out from the opening and a human-like silhouette appeared. It walked down the long ramp accompanied by several others and when they had all arrived on street level the door closed, extinguishing the bright gray light. As Anton's eyes adjusted to the darkness of late-evening he could see that the occupants of the flying machine were absolutely human.

The human in front was an older man in red-tinted goggles. He wore a plain sky blue flight suit and a black beret on his head. The others around him were dressed in similar uniforms, though they also had large, imposing weapons in their hands. Details were hard to come by in the low light. None of them were locals, Anton and the others knew that for sure.

"It's around here somewhere. There were at least three alive on the scanner in the immediate area." the older man spoke in what sounded like an Indian accent. "Find the source of that radar and shut it off, then deal with the witnesses. I don't want this town to become a problem."

Giving their commander a salute, the contingent of six soldiers marched off down Main Street heading directly towards the most recent impact site. Anton watched them in silence as they passed but ducked down suddenly. As the soldiers passed into the distance he could still see their commander standing at the end of his ramp. The commander pulled his radio close and spoke to his men once again. Anton could hear the distant echo from the soldiers' radios.

"Sensors are picking up something else. It's faint and masked and messing with the accuracy of our scans. Possibly some kind of advanced prototype. Be on guard, this one might be intelligent. If you see it, shut it down like the others. That radar takes priority, though. We need ALL bands silent. Over and out."

The commander turned on his heel and stalked back up his ramp. Unlike last time, the door simply slid open and shut as the man walked through, no light or show. Even though it was only for an instant, Anton thought he saw something else moving inside the ship.

Meanwhile, at the soldiers' destination, SB-5 was just pulling himself out of a junk pile and getting his bearings.

James ducked behind some debris as the large craft landed in their vicinity. Watching carefully as one of the men began to bark orders and disperse his companions, he turned to his companion, Nigel, who he had pulled into his hiding spot, "Police are here." A small smirk followed, whether or not these men were actually police was suspect, but they seemed like an authority all the same.

As the commander turned and began to enter the ship, James made his move and began to maneuver his way out of the crater so that he might be reunited with his ride. Stealthily, he made his way over to the alley Anton had backed in to. As he turned to catch another look at the ship to see if he was still unnoticed, he watched as the commander entered the UFO. Curiously, James saw colors that indicated multiple parties still on board and close to the entrance of the ship.

"Anton," he whispered as he rolled into the alley. "Anton, you manage to catch that?" Peering out, he scanned the vicinity once more and noted that Jons bike was still glowing. "I think I might have an idea of where we can at least start asking questions." He motioned towards the motorcycle, "That thing has been running hotter than any bike I have ever seen, and it's not even idling. That thing is doing something that does not involve turning those two wheels, I think this Jon guy owes us some answers."

Shrugging, he then turned his attention back to the ship, "Though, there are multiple parties aboard that ship besides the commander that just went in, if you don't want to stick around I understand." Reaching into his jacket he removed a small lighter and a vial of blue liquid and casually swirled it around, "But if you do... we should act soon."

This was just getting better and better. Not only was the military involved - not that he could recognise the uniform - but whoever was in charge had uttered the immortal lines 'deal with the witnesses'.

He ineptly snuck over to Anton and... the other one. "So, that complicates things." What's the situation? Two normal men, one with a suspicious knack for detecting radar and a ship possibly filled with a roving death squad. OK, suboptimal, but things could be worse.

"That's an excellent point..." Crap, didn't get his name. Now he can never ask. He motioned for, Jon was it?, to come over to them. He looked back at - nope, no idea - who was now holding a lighter and a vial. "Wait, what's that?"

"Yeah, hey Jim... I'm not so sure about this." Anton was getting a bit nervous. He loved adventure but UFOs and wannabe members of the Non-Aligned Movement didn't exactly put him in his comfort zone. "These guys have a giant flying... thing. I mean, the car is right there. A-and those big guys are gone! I'm thinking California? You know... greet the sunrise with a nice drink and all that."

Anton fumbled through his pockets and produced his car keys. He looked out of the alleyway and across the cracked pavement to where his car was sitting. It was parked behind the Podunkville Rod & Gun Club building and Anton could just barely see the rear end of the vehicle. That was going to be a long walk in front of a menacing and disturbingly quiet airplane thing. Then again they could probably just chase the car down anyway. Nigel brought Anton back to the present.

Several blocks away and approaching the outskirts of the small Ville, six armed men passed underneath an aging sign that read "Bob's Junk & Scrap Yard". They broke off into three pairs and each flipped a small switch on the side of the rifle. A loud charging sound filled the immediate vicinity and the street lamps overhead flickered uncomfortably.